


here's to falling in love and growing old

by phantomofthedumpster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, just a happy little fic, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29583810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomofthedumpster/pseuds/phantomofthedumpster
Summary: Sirius works at an elderly care home, and Remus's dad is just moving in. They fall in love over many hours of bad coffee and old lady gossip.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	here's to falling in love and growing old

”Come on, dad,” Remus urged the older man, grabbing onto the sleeve of his coat so that he would not fall on the slippery ice below their feet. Lyall Lupin huffed, and tried to shake off his son’s arm, but Remus held him steady.

”I don’t need your hands all over me,” Lyall muttered, taking short, uncertain steps towards the building.

”They aren’t all over you,” Remus said, patiently, ”and I’m only trying to help you.” He received another huff and grunt from Lyall, who seemed as unhappy about Remus’s help offerings as he was with this whole arrangement.

They – Remus and his mother – had decided to put him in a care home. He was a very old man now, though Remus doubted his father had yet realised it. He still acted as if though he was still twenty-five; eager to woo Hope and dance to any remotely danceable song that played on the radio.

Dancing, however, had become a whole lot harder since the stroke. A minor one, the doctors had said, but still severe enough to affect his walking, balance and coordination.

Still, Lyall Lupin was one stubborn man; he did not consider himself bad enough to be put in a care home and he would still bop his head to the rhythm of the music. It was only after several weeks of coaxing that they had gotten him to agree, somewhat, and on a few conditions.

First of all, Hope was to visit as often as she could. Say whatever you want about the man, but he was just as obsessed with his wife even after so many years of marriage that he could not go a day without seeing her. And Hope, of course, was happy to comply, because Remus’s parents were madly, quite disgustingly in love with each other.

Secondly, Hope was to bring her famous blueberry cakes once a week (this term had been wildly argued, because Lyall, of course, wanted the cakes more often than that, and Hope, on the other hand, argued that the care home was sure to feed him well enough anyway, and that he would sooner die of obesity than another stroke, if she was to bring him cakes more than once a week).

Lastly, Remus was to help him move, because, in the words of his father: ”Why else would you be blessed with those long arms and legs for?” And so there he was, on his only free Saturday of the month; carrying box after box of old man underwear and records.

It had been snowing the night before, and the streets were covered in a deceiving layer of snow, hiding the ice under its white blanket. Remus had already fallen on his ass once that morning, and he was very determined to not do so again, even if his father was particularly eager to challenge his own fate that day.

Remus was relieved when he finally reached the entrance of the building, his hand hovering cautiously over his father’s arm; not touching, but ready to grab ahold of him if things were about to go south (literally). With both of them having their hands occupied, and too much pride to just let the other get the door for them, Remus and Lyall stood for a moment outside, looking through the glass door as if it would somehow magically open by itself.

And then it did. Kind of.

”Need a hand?” The man smiled at them both; the warm and kind smile one could only expect from someone working in elderly care. He had already plucked the box out of Lyall’s hands and was waiting for Remus to hand him his, too, but Remus was far too occupied staring to realise.

The man wore loose-fitting scrubs in a horrendous mint green colour that did not match his blue eyes, and his hair was dark and long enough to be pulled into a bun at the top of his head. Remus thought he might be the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Remus had to stop himself from saying ’wow’, instead urging his own lips to form the word ’thanks’ and hand the man (or demigod, there was just no way Remus could be entirely sure) one of the smaller boxes.

”Mr Lupin, is it?” the man asked Remus’s dad, and Remus’s suspicion that he might not be entirely human only grew as he watched how he manoeuvred the boxes so elegantly, setting them down on a table without dropping a single thing from them. Remus, with the same long limbs his father had called a blessing, would probably make a fool out of himself thanks to his incurable clumsiness.

”Yes,” Remus’s father replied. The man extended his hand and Remus stood and watched as they shook hands politely, or perhaps more accurately; how the man’s eyes crinkled when he smiled widely.

”Sirius Black,” the man said, and then he had turned to Remus and offered his hand in a greeting. Remus managed a smile, taking Sirius’s hand a bit too eagerly and shaking it a bit too quickly. Sirius seemed unbothered, and turned back to Remus’s father with the very same, bright smile. ”We’ve got room 304 ready for you, Mr Lupin,” he said, pointing with his whole arm in the direction of one of the hallways. ”If you follow me this way, sir.”

So they did, Remus trailing behind awkwardly when his father had refused his support once again. Sirius was telling them all about the care home as they walked, and Remus listened intently, even though he had already read all about it on their website.

”Welcome home, Mr Lupin,” Sirius said as he opened the door to the little room. ”The very best we have to offer,” he added, though Remus doubted the room in question was anything spectacular at all. It had cream-coloured walls and a large window that overlooked the little garden outside. The only furniture was the bed and an empty dresser with a lamp on top of it, and all of it looked very much like it had time-travelled there from the fifties.

”Let me know if you’ll be needing any help, I’ll be in the reception.” Sirius left the room, and Remus found himself staring after him for a moment too long.

”Are you going to help me with these or not, boy?” his father asked, snapping Remus out of his daydreams.

”Yes, of course, dad,” he said and shook his head in an attempt to clear it from the picture of Sirius in those mint green scrubs, which were slowly starting to grow on Remus.

Remus helped his father unpack. He hadn’t brought a lot of his belongings from home, something Remus knew was just another act of defiance to not have to stay at the home for too long.

Lyall set up the record-player on top of the dresser, moving the less important lamp to the floor, and clapping his hands together proudly after he had set the needle down on the spinning record. Music filled the small room, and Lyall danced as best as he still could. Remus couldn’t help but smile a little too himself when he looked up from where he was trying to sort his father’s socks from the rest of his clothes.

As the final tones of ’Dizzy Miss Lizzy’ rang out in Lyall’s new room, there was a knock on the door, which still stood half-open. Sirius poked his head in and smiled, again.

”Settling in alright?” Sirius asked, and Remus’s father nodded. He waved Sirius welcome inside, and Remus quickly shoved his father’s superman underwear into the top drawer before Sirius could see them.

”A Beatles fan, are you, Mr Lupin?” Sirius had confidently walked into the small room and stood leaning over the record player where the record was still spinning soundlessly. Remus watched helplessly as a strand of Sirius’s hair fell loose from the bun and into the man’s face, and how Sirius’s long, delicate fingers moved up to tuck it back behind his ear. Remus found himself wishing he could have done it for him.

”Very much so,” Remus replied in his father’s place, ”he loves dancing to them, if you can call that dancing.”

”Who doesn’t love dancing?” Sirius countered sweetly.

”This one,” Lyall huffed, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at his son. ”Which is very ironic. You see, when he was little, Hope and I could not get him to sit still.”

”Oh really?” Sirius smiled, but it was turning more mischievous than polite. ”That’s unfortunate.”

”Do you have coffee?” Remus asked, in what was an all too obvious attempt to change the subject. Sirius laughed a bit before he nodded.

”In the cafeteria,” he replied.

”Coffee, dad?” Remus asked, but Lyall shook his head and moved to put on another record.

Sirius led him out of the room and down to the cafeteria, which smelled equal parts of old lady perfume and coffee. There was a plate of carrot cake set out as well, and Sirius explained that Rose, a very lovely old lady, had baked it the other day, and that Remus should most definitely have a piece of it.

”Hadn’t she been an eighty-nine-year-old with dementia, I would have recommended her for The Great British Bake Off,” Sirius said, before taking a big bite of his own cake. He had urged Remus toward a small, round table by one of the windows in the cafeteria. Two cups of steaming, weak coffee was set down on the table between them. Sirius was leaning back on his chair so that its two front legs were up in the air, balancing on it like a teenager in school would.

Remus took a bite of the cake, and it was just as good as Sirius had promised it would be.

”God, Rose would have kicked ass on The Great British Bake Off,” he said and Sirius laughed with a nod.

”They would have declared her winner by the first episode, I’m sure of it,” he stated, picking a piece of the cake between his thumb and index finger and slowly bringing it to his lips, and Remus had to avert his eyes.

After they had finished the cakes, and Remus had forced down half his cup of what was supposedly coffee but tasted more like bitter water, Sirius said he had to get back to his job, and Remus found his way back to his father’s room.

An old lady with grey hair and red lipstick had joined Lyall, and the two were chatting over the Johnny Cash record that was playing. She extended a wrinkly hand with perfectly manicured and matching red nails and one giant Dimond wedding band, and introduced herself as Louise, explaining she lived next door to Remus’s father. Ralf, her husband – though nearly deaf – loved Cash, she said.

”Personally,” explained Louise, ”I’m more fond of Presley. One handsome fella, isn’t he?” Remus forced himself to nod politely and smile at Louise, though he did not really agree.

An hour later, Remus finally gathered the courage to excuse himself from the conversation as politely as he possibly could. He urged his father to just ring him if there was anything else he needed, and Lyall dismissed him with a wave.

Remus walked down the hallway of the care home with his hands in his pockets, eyes searching for that dark bun of hair and pair of blue eyes that belonged to Sirius Black, but he could not see him. Ridiculous, he told himself, he did not need to say goodbye to his father’s caretaker before he left.

He got to his car, and had to dig out the window scraper; the front window had frozen over in the hours he had spent inside. Remus, who was not wearing any gloves, cursed under his breath as he scraped the window clean of ice and snow.

”Awful weather, isn’t it?” came a voice from behind him, and he turned around to see Sirius standing there. He was no longer in his mint green scrubs, but black skinny jeans and a button-up shirt under a leather jacket. His long black hair was no longer in a bun, but half-hidden under a red beanie. His eyes seemed impossibly bluer in the bright light reflected by the snow, and if Remus had found him beautiful before, it was nothing compared to the sight before him now.

Remus nodded dumbly and brushed the snow off his car. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at Sirius, more so that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look away if he did. There was something compelling about the man, something besides his obvious good looks.

Sirius walked over to a motorcycle that was covered under a thick layer of snow, and Remus couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him.

”You drive that? In the _winter?”_ he asked, and Sirius looked up to meet his eyes, smiling so warmly that it could have melted all the snow.

”There are these things called snowploughs, you know?” Sirius asked sarcastically and used his gloved hand to brush the snow off the seat of the motorcycle.

”Still,” Remus said sceptically, ”isn’t it cold?”

”Freezing,” Sirius agreed with a laugh, ”but I’ve got balls of steel.” Remus laughed and shook his head. Sirius’s cheeks were slightly red, but Remus figured it was just a product of the cold weather.

Sirius straddled the motorcycle, and Remus watched him wince at the cold. He narrowed his eyes sceptically, but Sirius only smiled.

”Some things aren’t about comfort, young Lupin. Sometimes, you’ve got to really embrace the aesthetics,” Sirius said.

”I bet you’d look just as badass on a bus, Mr Black,” Remus huffed, and then added, ”it’s Remus, by the way.”

”Hilarious,” Sirius huffed, then raised an eyebrow. ”Oh, you’re serious? That’s really your name?”

”Yes, Remus Lupin. Dad’s Lyall Lupin. Funny, isn’t it?”

”Tragic, I’d say,” Sirius said, ”sounds like you’ve got a bad dose of Team Jacob on your father’s side of the family.” Remus rolled his eyes with a smile on his lips, and opened the door to his car, though he wasn’t exactly eager to leave Sirius’s company.

Sirius turned the key, and his motorcycle came to life with a loud ’vroom’. He pulled his helmet down over his head, and though Remus could no longer see his eyes, he could feel they were still on him.

”See you, Wolf-man,” Sirius said, and his voice was slightly muffled by the helmet. Sirius lifted a gloved hand and waved at Remus, who waved back and watched as his motorcycle drove off, leaving him alone in the parking lot.

Remus got in his car and brushed his hands together to warm them, promising himself that he would visit his father at the care home as often as he possibly could.


End file.
